


The One Where Stiles Can't Flirt

by SassyStarboard



Series: Movie Nights and Werewolf Plights [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Clueless Stiles Stilinski, College Student Derek Hale, College Student Stiles Stilinski, Companion Piece, Drunk Stiles Stilinski, F/F, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Pre-Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski are Roommates, True Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24688414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyStarboard/pseuds/SassyStarboard
Summary: Stiles is in his sophomore year of college and is currently having the time of his life playing a drinking game with his roommate. His night can only get better when the super hot guy from down the hall shows up. Too bad Derek is oblivious as hell and isn’t responding to Stiles’ suave courting advances.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Lydia Martin, Danny Mahealani/Jackson Whittemore, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski
Series: Movie Nights and Werewolf Plights [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631581
Comments: 7
Kudos: 174





	The One Where Stiles Can't Flirt

**Author's Note:**

> [“True American (Movie Nights and Werewolf Plights)” Chapter 1 in Stiles POV]!!!
> 
> Probably cuter if you read “True American (Movie Nights and Werewolf Plights)” first, but you totally don’t have to. Figured I’d post this while I’m in the middle of trying to figure out Ch. 6 of True American, lol. Lmk if you like/what you think in the comments <3 Enjoy!!! :)
> 
> Let me know if you think I should continue this version!!!

College was fucking awesome. 

Statistics exam? Nailed it. Psychology paper? Crushing it. Criminology elective? So. Freaking. Cool.

Yeah, last year had kinda sucked. But really, all of his problems could be traced back to one key issue: his dad and Scott’s mom forcing them to room separately.  _ Greenberg _ had been literal hell to deal with, and Stiles should know—running with werewolves was pretty rough shit and even  _ he _ hadn’t been able to handle the guy. Seriously, who the hell had let Greenberg into this school? Don’t even get him started on Scott’s roommate—Stiles was pretty sure Matt Daehler (if that was even the dude’s real name) had been a serial killer. Like, an  _ actual  _ serial killer.

This year though. This year their parents had caved, finally learning that Scott and Stiles attempting to live separate lives was horrible for everyone involved. Especially Scott and Stiles. Now, the two bro-migos had finally been reunited. Alpha and Emissary forevs! Partners in crime for life, bitches!

“Dude…”

Stiles looked up from where he was sitting on the floor, wrapping green duct tape around Jackson’s office chair. Across the room, Scott had slumped down into a beanbag, catching his breath from pushing all their furniture against the wall. What, like any of the  _ non _ -super-humans were gonna help him? Allison was already drunk, Lydia never did manual labor, and Stiles...Stiles was constructing his masterpiece.

“Dude, what the hell is this game?” Scott took a long drink from the bottle they’d sent for, an unholy and immovable amount of bright red duct tape wrapped around the middle, serving both to cover the spiky purple lettering of the  _ Wolf’s Brew _ brand label and to make sure none of the humans drank it by mistake.

“You’d understand if you watched the shows with me!” Stiles whined. “It makes sense, it totally does! You’re just...you’re just wrong.”

“I’ve seen both of those shows—” Allison commented, “—and this whole set up feels like a fever dream.” She kicked her legs out and slid her roller chair to the side, her heels knocking against Lydia’s knees as she spun. Lydia, of course, was the only one of them who made a semi-coherent drunk. Lydia was seated beside Allison, who gave a happy little hum when Lydia reached over and pulled Allison’s chair closer to hers. Allison kissed Lydia’s cheek before taking another drink from her beer. Scott pretended to gag.

“I wish Jackson and Danny were here.” Lydia said wistfully. Allison’s brow furrowed. Stiles made a face—he didn’t want to imagine what Jackson would do to him if he saw the room like this. Was he scared of Jackson? Absolutely not. Was Jackson a pretentious douche who could make his life a living hell? Yes and yes. 

“You really think if they were here instead of out on a date that he’d be cool with this?” Scott gestured to the general chaos of the room. 

“Jackson? Fuck no. But his fault for bunking with us.” Stiles shrugged, tucking a can of beer behind one of their bed posts—bonus points. “I’m just bummed Kira couldn’t come.”

“ _ I’m _ bummed Danny didn’t want to room with us.” Scott said petulantly. “We’re awesome.”

“ _ So _ awesome.” Stiles echoed, crossing the room to his friends.

“You thought a man who owns a tie rack would survive living with two boys who don’t even own a laundry hamper?” Lydia nodded at the obscene mountain of laundry looming over them. As she spoke, Stiles braved the pile in the name of team spirit, shoving the bottle of Fireball he’d stolen from Jackson into the center of the heap.

“How come only Danny gets to be a man? We’re men!” Stiles exclaimed, indignant.

“Because Danny knows how to use a microwave.” Lydia said snidely. Allison wrinkled her nose at the puddle of melted sugar on the floor, the charred remains of Stiles’ failed Pinterest experiment. It had looked cool in the picture, okay?"

“Danny was right to get his own apartment.” Allison agreed with a shudder.

“He ditched us!” Stiles pulled his arm back out of the pile with a grimace, shaking it off. “ _ Danny’s _ the one who made us take Jackson in the first place and now it’s just me, Scott, Jackson, and no Danny! I didn’t even know you could back out of this housing stuff, and Scotty and I totally would have ditched Jackson!”

“Why Stiles, you can’t stand Jackson?” Lydia said airily. “My, is this new information.”

Scott and Allison laughed. Stiles pouted. “Come on, guys. We’re all done with our first set of exams! It’s almost fall break! We are young and wild and free! Let’s live a little! What, like you guys were gonna come all the way over here and  _ not _ play my super awesome drinking game?”

“We live on the opposite side of campus, Stiles. Not in Switzerland.” Allison laughed. Lydia smiled at her. 

“Whatever. I’m almost set up anyways. Catch.” Stiles grabbed the rolls of duct tape, tossing them at his friends. “Scott, Alpha Red—”

“S’not what it’s really called.” Scott muttered, examining his duct tape. The letters were tiny and blurry.

“—Alli, Battle-Ready Blue—” Stiles grinned. Allison sighed lightly. “—and Lyds, Perfection Purple.” Stiles winked. Lydia rolled her eyes. “ _ Amazing human-slash-genius _ doesn’t start with a P, Lydia.” Stiles informed sharply. “And, best of all, Stiles—”

“Gay-as-hell Green!” Scott offered encouragingly. When werewolves drank, they  _ drank— _ Scott was already halfway gone. Stiles lovingly threw an empty beer can at Scott’s head.

“ _ Gorgeously Sexy  _ Green.” Stiles corrected. “If anyone should have Gay-as-hell Green, it’s you, Scotty. I play for  _ both  _ teams, son. Know what that means? I get  _ twice  _ the honeys.”

“And yet,” Lydia cocked her head, “you don’t.”

Stiles pouted instantly. Scott sank further into his beanbag in a fit of giggles. Stiles scowled at his friends. “Uh, do so.”

“It’s okay, Stiles. You are strong and independent. You don’t need no man.” Scott thought he was helping.

“Hush, peasants!” Stiles commanded. Lydia scowled at him. “Not you, Lydia Martin. You’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here.” Lydia tossed her hair over her shoulder in recognition of her achievements.

“Yes we are.” Allison smirked. Lydia grinned back at her, her eyes running over Allison with a look of hunger.

“Bro,” Scott eyed the girls, fear in his eyes, “you gotta start this game.”

“The people have spoken!” Stiles grabbed a Nerf gun from under his bed, preparing to shoot it off like a starting pistol. He aimed the toy gun at the ceiling, raising his arm high. 

“Now...may the odds be ever! In! Your! Favor!”

* * *

Two six-packs and three Miley Cyrus albums later, their dorm suite was a graveyard of duct tape and empty beer cans.

In the back corner of the room, Laundry Mountain was being guarded by the remaining roll-away chairs. Of the four desks, the two belonging to Scott and Stiles were covered in school work and shoved to the side. The desk meant for Danny was empty except for Allison’s flip flop. Then, in the center, Jackson’s desk had an absurdly high stack of empty beer cans and was surrounded by the spoils of war, the cornucopia: three unopened bags of chips and half a box of microwave popcorn. Scott was currently in the lead; his red tape X’s were inside nearly a third of the floor tiles. Stiles, though. Stiles had captured the elusive SourPatch tiles.

“Jackson’s gonna kill you for touching his stuff.” Lydia giggled, spinning in her chair. 

Beside her, Allison was intently planning her next move—she was two points away from entering the Chair Olympics. Funny, really, because Allison had actually made it to the Junior Olympics back in high school. This game, unfortunately, did not involve archery. Still, Allison was determined not to lose to Scott. Nobody knew how he was winning.

“No one ever in the history of ever has ever wanted to touch Jackson’s  _ stuff _ .” Stiles shot back at Lydia. “Doesn’t matter though. Our room’s a shithole anyways.” The word  _ shithole _ came out almost like  _ shi-ol _ ; his tired, drunken brain skipping a few letters here and there as he surveyed the area.

“ _ Our _ shithole.” Scott said proudly, leaning off of his mattress and hugging their bunk bed ladder for support. “Kinda loud though.” His eyes narrowed at their portable speaker, balanced precariously on a stack of books.

_ "Get to the club in a taxi cab _

_ Everybody's looking at me now _

_ Like who's that chick, that's rockin' kicks? _

_ She's gotta be from out of town" _

“Duh,” Stiles snorted, “seriously though, how has no one sicced Housing on us? That last song went  _ hard _ . You were so right, Scotty.  _ Hannah Montana’s _ the shit.”

“Found one!” Allison sat up from the odd angle she’d been holding herself in to look under the bed, straightening triumphantly to hold up a beer can.

“Two more to go, ladies!” Stiles declared. “Gotta keep up if you wanna win.” He chugged the rest of the can he was holding. How many was too many?  _ Was _ there a  _ too many _ ? Nah. 

“We  _ are  _ winning.” Lydia corrected. Stiles scoffed, indignant.

“We’re playing teams?” Scott moaned. He’d had no idea.

“You are  _ not  _ winning, pretty lady,” Stiles informed her, “but too bad, so sad. Scott and I have already picked out our winners trophy, and you two—”

A loud knock rapped on the door.

All of them quieted immediately. With the absence of their conversation, the music seemed to almost double in volume. Shit, had it been that loud the whole time? They exchanged looks, nervous. Finally, the first to action, Stiles lunged towards the phone laying on the desk and killed the connection to their Bluetooth speaker. Goodbye,  _ Party in the USA _ .

Another sharp knock, seeming to echo around the room in the hollow silence of the suite—the absence of the music was deafening.

“I told you we were too loud!” Scott warned. “It’s housing!”

“Wonderful.” Lydia said dryly. “And now we’re positively done for because  _ you two  _ have the grace to match an overweight elephant!” Lydia pointed accusingly at the two boys, her finger missing it’s mark by a good deal. 

_ “Don’t you dare bring elephants into this _ !” Scott hissed at her. Lydia huffed, tense, having temporarily sobered in her panic at their unknown visitor.

“How come you’re the one who sounds smart drunk? I wanna be smart!” Stiles whined at her. Allison snickered.

“ _ You’re so smart, honey. _ ” She said softly, dropping her head onto Lydia’s shoulders and off-setting their roller chairs. Lydia reached out quickly, steadying them.

“Shut up! I’ll get it!” Stiles decided, his words the loudest yet.

“ _ You? You’re drunk as fuck _ .” Scott giggled quietly.

“No, it’s my room! I’m getting it!” Stiles shot back. Scott grumbled. 

“Everybody be cool!” Allison hissed. Right before loudly kicking an empty can under the bed. As if the possible RA on the other side of the door was  _ her _ problem.

Stiles waved his arms out, widely and frantically gesturing for everyone to quiet down. Then, stealthily, Stiles snuck over to the door and creaked it open a crack.  _ If they can’t see all of you, they won’t know how much alcohol you’ve had. You’re so smart, Stiles. Thank you, Stiles. You’re welcome, Stiles. _

Stiles schooled his expression, attempting to project as much casualness as possible, then inched the door open to reveal the most devastatingly handsome man he had ever seen.

He was taller than Stiles, and probably older what with his stunning and gloriously full facial hair. He wasn’t an RA. He couldn’t be, because Stiles wanted to lick his jawline so,  _ so _ bad. His arms were practically bursting out of his tight Henley, impossibly strong. Even better, his face was doing that angry brooding sexy thing all the werewolves in  _ Twilight _ did. It. Was. Awesome.

Stiles grinned lazily at the man in front of him, inwardly praying the guy wouldn’t rat them out and _ / _ or notice how Stiles’ eyes were practically bugging out of his head. Once again,  _ please please please don’t be an RA.  _ The man frowned, as if the mere sight of Stiles confused him.

“Um—”

“Hello good sir, how may I assist you this evening?” Stiles asked regally, fluttering his eyelashes. The man blinked. Probably stunned at Stiles’ blatant drunkenness. Or maybe he was posing. He certainly looked like he was. He looked like a freaking model. He looked kind of scary too, but if he was a serial killer then at least he was a sexy one. Finally—

“I...I live next door. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind keeping it—”

_ Oh, fuck yes. _

“Scotty!” Stiles swung the door open and excitedly called back into his suite. “Scotty, he lives next door! He’s cool!”  _ Yes, yes, yes! _

Stiles grabbed the man's arm and dragged him into the room. Hopefully the others didn’t embarrass him in front of his pretty new friend. Holding onto him tightly— _ holy shit, is this an arm or a rock _ —Stiles enthusiastically pulled him towards one of the vacant bunk beds. He stopped in front of Laundry Mountain and turned, beaming proudly before rifling through his drawer and grabbing the extra roll of duct tape.

“Okay, so here are the rules—” Stiles explained the instructions as best and as fast as his brain could remember them.

— _ Rules. Rules. Rules. Lightning fast. Super speed. Oh my god, you’re so smart, Stiles. Hot guys love it when you explain convoluted drinking games to them. Right? Obvi. Fuck, is this a dream or are his eyes actually that sexy? Can eyes be sexy? He should wear shirts this color all the time, the green really makes them pop. Do we still have green tape? He should be green. Wait, no. He can’t, because actually _ — __

“—actually, no. We only have pink. Cause Scott’s red, Allison’s blue, Lydia’s purple, and Stiles is green.”

Stiles gasped harshly—breathing was hard—and looked at the man expectantly. Nearby, Scott was staring at the man with suspicion. Thankfully Scott’s suspicious face made him look like an adorably confused puppy. Inwardly, Stiles melted.  _ No, you’re the cutest!  _ Lydia, on the other hand, was watching strange neighbor man the way a cat watches a mouse. Allison scowled, put out, quite obviously feeling that she should be the sole object of Lydia’s gaze.

Beside Stiles— _ and hopefully  _ **_behind_ ** _ Stiles in the future, say what? _ —the beautiful man looked gorgeously befuddled. Stiles wanted to kiss the expression off his cute little face. Such a pretty face shouldn’t be so frowny. It should be happy!

“What.” The man said gruffly, seemingly overwhelmed.

“We’re playing a cross between Jimmy Jabs and True American.” Stiles said plainly. The perfect explanation. “You wanna play, right?”  _ Why else would he have shown up? _

“What?” The man repeated.

“Of course he does.” Lydia twirled one of her braids around her finger with a teasing grin. Stiles’ brows furrowed.  _ Not fair! Lydia’s not in the running! She’s not a free agent!  _ **_Stiles_ ** _ has first-sight dibs on Sexy Neighbor! _

Thankfully, Sexy Neighbor didn’t appear to have been swayed by Lydia’s charms. Still—

“Stay as long as you like.” Lydia winked. Allison, incredibly drunk and fed up with Lydia’s flirting, vindictively kicked Lydia’s roller chair. Lydia took off, spinning wildly across the floor.

“Allison!” She screeched, whirling wildly. Sighing, Allison grabbed a lacrosse stick from the floor and pushed off from Laundry Mountain to go spinning after Lydia. Seeing this, Scott dissolved into laughter. Losing himself, he fell off the bunk bed ladder and collapsed on the floor with a painful groan. And didn’t move.

Leaving Stiles as the sole competitor for Sexy Neighbor’s hand. Excellent.

Stiles heroically yanked the man out of the way as Allison and Lydia rolled past them, twirling and cheering. The man frowned.

“What’s a Stiles?” He asked. 

_ I know that word! I know the answer! It’s me! Pick me! _

Stiles blinked. “Yes? What? What’s a—oh! Me. Me, I’m a Stiles. Wait, no. I’m Stiles. Hi. Good evening.”

“Hi.” The man said stiffly.

“Pink?” Stiles reached into the nearest desk drawer and pulled out an over-sized roll of neon pink duct tape. Sexy Man did not answer. What a shame. Stiles was patient though. Despite the counter opinions of every adult he’d ever met, Stiles could totally be patient.  _ Patient. Patient. Patient. _

“I can’t.” The man managed.  _ No! Why? _

“Why?” Stiles said simply.  _ Why don’t you wanna play with us? Why don’t you want to be with me? How did you get your hair so perfect? Is it a gel serum? I bet it’s a gel serum. _

“I have an exam.” He said stiffly.

“Why?” Stiles repeated.  _ How awful! Don’t take exams! I finished mine! It feels great!  _

“What do you mean  _ why _ ?”

“Why?”  _ Duh. _

“To pass my class! I need to study!” He said, exasperated.

_ An exam? Now? It’s the middle of the night!  _

“You’re taking it now? But it’s like two in the morning.”

“No, it’s tomorrow.” The man clarified.

“Yeah, that’s what two in the morning means.”  _ It’s a good thing you’re pretty _ , Stiles thinks _.  _ “Oh! Come on, if we don’t finish before 2:22 the game goes into Overtime Rules.” Stiles pushed the duct tape towards his new friend, who stepped back. Stiles pouted.

Sexy Neighbor took a deep breath, his jaw tightening. “I can’t.”

_ What? No! Don’t leave! Stay! Stay forever! Pretty people deserve to have fun! Stay here and make out with me! Stay here and stop studying! You worry too much! Tense muscles are bad! How about a massage? _

“—I have an exam. It’s tomorrow morning in Economics 207—”

_ Wait! Don’t be creepy, Stiles. You got this, bro. Channel your inner Scott. Use the puppy dog eyes for good. You can do this. It’s for a great cause! Fun! Wooing! I believe in you, buddy! _

“—I came by because I’m studying and I need you to—”

Stiles whined, clutching the roll of duct tape to his chest and cuddling it like a teddy bear, his wide brown eyes shining with sadness. 

Sexy Neighbor stopped talking. He pursed his lips, then sighed. Stiles gave a targeted flutter of his eyelashes.  _ Oh yeah, bitches. _

“Maybe...maybe some other time.” He offered carefully. “I think—”

“What the  _ hell _ , Stilinski!?”

_ Shit. _ Stiles tensed as all eyes turned towards the angry voice.  _ Oh no, not now. Not now,  _ **_please_ ** _ not now!  _

Jackson. Of course. Jackson had come back from his date early and was standing in the doorway with a furious expression on his face, glaring at Stiles. He marched further into the room, seething.

Stiles shrank into himself with a guilty whine. Sexy Neighbor valiantly defended his honor by scowling at Jackson.  _ God, what a man _ . Jackson, forever the douchebag, responded by looking personally disgusted. 

Thankfully, Lydia shot up towards Jackson, running at him and pulling his focus away from Stiles. “Jackson! Jackson, do you wanna play? It’s so much fun! Please! Please!” 

Lydia threw herself at Jackson, wrapping her arms around his neck. Jackson stumbled, clearly caught off guard, but steadied her and resumed glaring at poor innocent Stiles.

_ What? This isn’t my fault! This would’ve been gone by tomorrow! It’s your fault! You said you would be back tomorrow! You’re a liar! Kind of a scary one, actually. You know what, let me take that back. Please don’t kill me. _

“You said you weren’t coming back from Danny’s until tomorrow.” Stiles said in a small voice. Jackson had Lydia hostage now. There was no telling what he would do. 

“Put my stuff back and clean this up. Now.” Jackson ordered. Jackson cast a disdainful look at Scott, who had bravely attempted to crawl up from the floor but had instead collapsed on the bottom bunk in defeat. A noble fallen soldier. 

_ No! I’m not done wooing! I’ve found a new purpose! To woo this hot scruffy man! Your ugliness is driving him off! You’re scaring him! You’re being mean! _

“We didn’t finish playing.” Stiles sniffed miserably. Jackson’s already furious expression darkened.  _ Aw, shit. _ Suddenly—

“I’ll just...leave.” Sexy Neighbor said, taking a step back.

_ No, no, no! Don’t leave! No! _ Stiles gave a quiet, distressed whine.

“Yeah, who even are you?” Jackson snapped at him. Sexy Neighbor raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. 

“Derek.” He said flatly.

_ Sexy Neighbor has a name! And oh, it’s so so pretty! Wait, someone else has that name. Someone cool. Who is it? Who has—oh! _

“Like Magneto?” Stiles asked excitedly.

“Um...I don’t think so.” Derek told him. 

“ _ Erik _ .” Scott groaned out the correction just before gravity smushed his face into the floor, his body dropping off of the mattress. Stiles snorted.  Beside him, Jackson gave Derek a pointed look.

“Alright then. Derek?  _ Get out _ .” Jackson sneered at him. Behind Derek’s back, Stiles stared intensely at Jackson.  _ Laser eyes. Laser eyes. Laser eyes. _ Jackson, unfortunately, did not melt.

Derek— _ a god amongst men _ —squared his shoulders, giving Jackson a cold, predatory grin. Immediately, Stiles was both terrified and aroused. Oh man, Derek was the perfectest. Even more perfecter, Jackson’s angry expression faltered for a moment before he caught himself. But Stiles saw.  _ Stiles sees all. _

“Enjoy your night.” Derek said sharply. 

_ No! No, no, no _ — _ ow. ow.  _ Stiles was thrown off balance as Jackson pushed past him, carefully setting Lydia down on his bed. 

Stiles quickly looked back up at the door. But he’d missed it. 

Derek had left, and had shut the door behind him.

Stiles looked past Jackson and stared at the closed door, thoroughly disappointed.  _ Derek _ . Unfortunately, someone was now talking to Stiles. Someone who was not at all respecting his wishes to be left alone to mourn the tragic loss of Sexy Derek. Someone with an incredibly grating voice who was sounding angrier by the second and—

“—how many damn times have I told you that you can’t bring other Weres back here without warning us first?” Jackson said fiercely. “You know I hate lumping myself in with McCall, but you can’t keep pulling this shit. We need to know. Remember Theo? That freak who tried to poison Scott? And now you bring over  _ that _ guy? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Stiles’s head felt fuzzy.  _ Other what? _ “Other what?” Stiles managed, sniffing. 

Jackson clenched his jaw, his teeth growing sharper. “Dammit, Stiles! I just told you to quit bringing your fucking hookups back here!”

“I fucking wish.” Stiles said wistfully. His sadness at being abandoned by Sexy Derek was fading out, his mood shifting into something lighter, easier. Stiles always mellowed before he passed out. Seeing Stiles’ expression, Jackson scrubbed a hand over his face, done.

Jackson groaned. “Jesus, you’re gonna be too fucked up to remember this, aren’t you?”

“Okay.” Stiles nodded.

“Look.” Jackson gritted out. “You? Guests? Bad. Strangers? Bad.  _ Drunk Lydia _ ?”

“Bad.” Stiles echoed, glancing guiltily at his friend.

Lydia and Allison were asleep now, Allison having crawled over to Jackson's bed and joined Lydia on top of the comforter. Scott was out cold on the floor. Stiles very badly wanted to be Scott. It just looked so comfortable.

“You’re gonna clean this up. And you’re gonna pay to replace my stuff, because I have no doubt that you went through my shit while I was gone.” Jackson shot a final glare at his roommates before reaching around his bedpost, yanking his phone charger out of the wall. “Can’t believe I came back for my charger and walked into this swamp. You two are disgusting. When I come back tomorrow, I want my space so clean that you and McCall won’t mind licking the floor to prove it.” Jackson huffed. “I’m leaving. Make sure Lydia gets a pillow that isn’t Allison’s arm.”

Stiles watched Jackson leave, an exit that was leaps and bounds more satisfying than the departure of Sexy Derek.

_ What had Jackson called him? Jackson had called Derek something, what was it? Oh man, it sounded important. It was totally important, wasn’t it? Where was….what did he _ —

“Hey, Stiles?”

Stiles turned. Scott rolled over, triumphantly holding up a fistful of Doritos.

“Stiles, I found our stash.” Scott said, a groggy, dopey smile on his face. Stiles grinned. Derek could wait.

“.....awesome.”

**Author's Note:**

> The writing might seem a little childish, but I was aiming to reflect the thought process of “Drunk Stiles” because it’s his POV. The italics are his attempts at inner thoughts. Also I’m pretty neutral on Jackson, but this is from Stiles’ view so Stiles is a little mean to him. Hope you liked it!


End file.
